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The role of narrative in Anzac Day

Michele Bruniges

Anzac Day: "It's about something much deeper, about humanity and resilience, an acknowledgement of the sacrifice and the trauma."

It was almost a century ago when my grandfather answered the call to serve "King and country" and enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force.

Private Gledhill Thatcher recorded his age as 18 and required his parents' signature to sign up because he was under the AIF enlistment age of 21.

I have always known that my maternal grandfather served in World War I – and my great-uncles in World War II – but until recently I have not known much detail. I am slowly discovering the history of my family's military service and this personal connection makes me want to learn more.

It's why Anzac Day resonates so strongly today, and grows in stature in the nation's consciousness; because we can relate our personal narratives to the community narratives and to the historical narrative of the country.

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Anzac Day is not a celebration or a glorification of war. It's about something much deeper, about humanity and resilience, an acknowledgement of the sacrifice and the trauma – for the servicemen and women, and their families.

In today's world of instantaneous communication it is hard to imagine what it must have been like to receive telegrams that raised more questions than they answered. Or wondering for months, even years, if your son, brother or husband was alive.

In my grandfather's war records there is a telegram sent to his father, Thomas Thatcher: "Regret report son Private Gledhill Thatcher wounded. Will promptly advise if anything further received. Base Records 8/9/16."

And the reply a week later from my great-grandfather to Base Records: "Furnish with particulars re private Gledhill Thatchers [sic] wounds and address. T Thatcher."

From my grandfather's war records in the National Archives of Australia, and the expertise of Brad Manera, executive manager of the Anzac Memorial, Hyde Park, I have a broad-brush picture of Gledhill Thatcher's service.

He enlisted at Casula in Sydney and embarked from Australia on February 18, 1916. He was initially part of the 31st Battalion but was transferred to the 47th Battalion of the 12th Brigade of the 4th Division. He was an instructor in several other battalions later in the war, teaching soldiers how to defend themselves against that most terrifying of weapons, poison gas.

Like the rest of the 4th Division, he saw action during the battle for Pozieres on the Somme, in France. He received a gunshot wound in the right knee at the height of the battle for Mouquet Farm, a few kilometres from Pozieres.

Mouquet Farm – or "Moo Cow Farm" as it was dubbed by the Anzacs – was a German stronghold. The seven weeks of fighting at Pozieres and Mouquet Farm, from July to September, 1916, were some of the bloodiest days of World War I.

More than 23,000 Australians were killed or wounded in the Battle for Pozieres. The Australian war historian, Charles Bean, wrote that the Pozieres ridge was "more densely sown with Australian sacrifice than any other place on earth".

According to Manera's analysis, my grandfather spent the rest of 1916 in hospital in England and was then posted to a training camp in France. In 1917 he went back to his battalion and fought in the battles for Passchendaele near Ieper (Ypres) in Belgium.

He remained an instructor for most of 1918, but returned to the line in September when the AIF needed reinforcements for the attacks on the Hindenburg Line, Germany's last line of defence in France. By now a corporal, he commanded an infantry section during fighting around Peronne and Bellicourt Canal.

When I was growing up in the 1960s and '70s, I knew my grandfather had served in the war but what that meant wasn't an easy dinner conversation to have.

But like many Australians, I now want to know more about why Australia went to war, the experiences of those who returned, and the effect on the broader community. We have inherited the stories from these personal narratives and they connect to community and national narratives.

In December I was in Wagga Wagga, near my home town of Tumut, as a member of the NSW Centenary of Anzac Advisory Council for the launch of the re-enactment of the 1915 Kangaroo March – the longest of the recruitment drives at 520 kilometres on foot from Wagga to Sydney. I wondered then if recruitment drives like the Kangaroo and Coo-ee marches had prompted my grandfather to enlist.

Schoolchildren dressed in period costumes sang songs from the era and four descendants of the Kangaroos were presented with symbolic items, including a kettle drum and the Kangaroo March banner. It was clear from the large crowd that interest in this community narrative will grow only stronger before the re-enactment in 2015.

Young people today are intrigued by the Anzac story. You only have to look at the increase in numbers at the dawn services, the pride of children wearing their grandfathers' medals and the many nationalities who commemorate the fallen.

We recognise that the legend of the Anzacs – particularly in the wider context of service in all wars and conflicts – is an important part of our history to which we can connect through the narratives of individuals, their communities and our country.

Dr Michele Bruniges is secretary of the Department of Education and Communities and a NSW Centenary of Anzac Ambassador.

3 comments so far

Why is it we have to look back generations to understand "about humanity and resilience, an acknowledgement of the sacrifice and the trauma"I agree we need to acknowledge and pay respect to the ANZACs and their sacrifice, but not in the maudlin media spin overly sentimental, over the top way we currently do; just as we need to acknowledge all the other courageous and heroic actions of the present day. It almost as though we feel the current generations are somehow less worthy. Undoubtedly the preceding generations had life a lot tougher than we do and as a result were not overtly sentimental about most things and many of them came back scarred and completely underwhelmed by the incompetent leadership that got many of them killed that they were subject to under the British flag. As there is currently talk that the government will be targeting the reduction of service pensions in the next budget I find shocking that the Prime Minister is then is eulogising the sacrifice of the soldiers of previous generations. It seems like a hypocrisy that is unworthy of the memory of those who have served there country when asked. No different from the Anzacs. I also find it very sad that 100 years on we aren't capable of identifying any other events in the country's lifespan that are representative of the great country we have become and investing similar emotion in them.

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Seriously

Date and time

April 25, 2014, 4:43PM

'Anzac Day is not a celebration or a glorification of war'. It's not meant to be, however, any sober analysis of the nations psyche in relation to Anzac Day would reveal otherwise.I grew up in the 50s and 60s in a house with 3 WW2 returned servicemen. Not one of them wanted to publicly participate in Anzac Day. They would much prefer a commemorative drink at the RSL with mates and that was it. Even back then they could see 'their' day being taken over by those who knew nothing about the horrors of war.Each of them supported my opposition to the Vietnam war. They didn't want their son and nephew to experience what they knew was nothing more than dreadful.Things have changed - Anzac Day has been hijacked by politicians, the media and our own military. Flag swathed youth are standard vision fodder in the coverage from Gallipoli and Australian services. The word 'celebration' is freely used by commentators.It's time to pull back. My contribution at this time of year is to honour my father and uncles by following their example. No participation, just a quiet remembrance of their contribution and a continuing opposition to war as a solution.The upcoming 100th anniversary of WW1 fills me with dread.